


All these things I highly recommend

by Birdsallthetime, phytokween



Category: Bon Appétit Test Kitchen RPF, Chef RPF
Genre: Adam "Buttons" Rapaport, Alex "Playboy" Delany, Anal Sex, Apparently no one else writes about BA Test Kitchen Characters, Crack fic for sure, Food Metaphors, Hot whole milk, Inspired by Real Events, Inspired by an Email, M/M, One Shot, Seduction, Sexual Tension, Uncork'd, What Happens In Vegas..., Who's better than us Vinny?, Work trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 11:52:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18828145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdsallthetime/pseuds/Birdsallthetime, https://archiveofourown.org/users/phytokween/pseuds/phytokween
Summary: This work is inspired by a sentence in Adam Rapaport’s email blast about 2019 Uncork’d: “by the time I woke up Friday morning, ordered my room-service coffee (hot whole milk on side, please), and turned on SportsCenter, Alex Delany was already long gone.”An entirely fictional account of what might have inspired Rapo’s email.





	All these things I highly recommend

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know anything about the inner workings of BA Test Kitchen, Alex Delany, or Adam Rapaport, but I do know that a story about their hook up needed to exist in this world.
> 
> Here's a one off that will hopefully give me some peace in this world.
> 
> Also thanks to the lovely beta, A, who does not yet have an ao3 <3

Several weeks before Uncork’d. BA Test Kitchen Offices, New York City.

“Delany, can I speak to you in my office?” Adam Rapaport, editor of Bon Appetite, was a refined man. His taste was refined. His appearance was refined. Even his mannerisms are refined. So, when Adam Rapaport calls you into his office, nothing about his face gives away the reason. 

“Uncork’d is next week and I wanted to go over the filming schedule for our on-location episodes of It’s Alive and Alex Eats It All.” Adam settled behind his desk, long and delicate fingers quickly adjusting his tie as he started the meeting before the door shut. Cautious relief replaces apprehension on the boyish face of Alex Delany, Assistant (almost full!) Production Manager for the BA Youtube channel. 

“I’ve been very pleased with the channel’s success of late, but I’m looking to use our live shows in Vegas as a jumping off point for expanding our audience. A lot is weighing on these episodes and I need to be impressed by the production, Alex.” Feeling both scolded and complimented, the expression on Alex Delany’s face quirked for a moment. Taking in the picture of planned and planning sitting at an orderly desk before him, Alex had an idea. 

Adam harped on some finer details of the episode of It’s Alive planned for Uncork’d, but the words passed by Alex unheard. Alex loved to love (if we are being delicate about sleeping with the majority of the BA test kitchen) and at this moment Alex loved a certain fantasy. A fantasy where Adam shut his office door and _got_ Alex off instead of telling Alex off about the upcoming episodes. “How out of character would this be for Adam?” Alex wondered silently, narrowing his eyes on the distinguished character currently expounding on the importance of minimizing jump cuts. Adam wore no ring, and if the rumors were true from the Scotland trip, he held a preference for spotted dick. 

Throwing caution to the wind, Alex decided then and there that during the upcoming trip he wanted to find out what it was to love Adam Rapaport (if only for one night). After all, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Uncork’d Conference, Las Vegas. 10:30 am Thursday.

Delany left his shirt open on purpose. It wasn’t just because the Vegas heat was worse than pizza day in the BA Test Kitchen. He knew Adam wouldn’t like it. He knew Adam would fuss about it. He hoped Adam would touch him.

“Delany! Delany. I know you don’t work directly with the food but all of us at BA test kitchen have an appearance to up keep and that shirt isn’t going to work.” Rapo’s volume decreased as he strutted from in front of the camera to behind in order to preen his employee. His cool hands fidgeted against the furnace of Alex’s chest as they pulled his opened shirt together, doing up the buttons. Alex let out a quick breath as Adam’s fingertips brushed the stubble beneath Alex’s chin while fastening the top. 

“A bit tight there chief,” Alex winked, catching the eyes of an irked Adam. Rapo realized his proximity a moment too late. A little flushed and murmuring something about making sure people stay clothed, Adam stepped away flexing his fingers.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Just before Aperitivo Hour with Giada, Uncork’d Conference. 2:45 pm Thursday.

“Hey Rapo! Real quick!” Delany waved Adam over with his full hand, drawing Adam closer before there was time for questioning. “Your bow tie is uneven. Cannot have that when meeting the illustrious Giada.” Alex’s own shirt unbuttoned lower than before, warmth radiating off his chest while his fingers brushed Adam’s chin, mimicking the unintended caress he’d received hours before. 

“OK Delany, ok.” Adam prides himself on being put together, and the primping by the roguish Assistant Producer had him a bit flustered. His slightly peeved voice tapered off when his mild glare met Delany’s darkened gaze. Delany’s hands lingered around the already perfected bowtie. 

“The fuss is just for the footage.” Given Delany’s hands were still gripping his collar, Adam questioned the meaning of this statement.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
After the Grand Tasting in the hotel bar. 10:45 pm on Thursday.

Delany wasn’t with the group. Adam was a little bit relieved. He wasn’t sure how to interpret today’s interactions between Alex and himself. He knew Alex was a flirt, to put it mildly but he never imagined himself being on the receiving end of these flirtations. Every touch and comment felt loaded with a promise of more. But what was the end goal here? Shaking his head from his reverie, Adam tried to refocus on the group but to no avail. Maybe a cocktail would help cool the burn Delany had started.

Alas, returning from the bar, drink in hand, the devil sat perched in the chair across from his. 

“Adam,” Delany tilted his head, mouth smirking slightly at the startled look on the BA editor’s face.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
1 hour later.

Adam was the editor of the premiere food magazine in the United States. He was cool, collected, and could handle himself under duress (deadlines). So he could definitely handle the sex eyes Delany had fixed him with over the last hour. Thus far, his strategy was to stay aggressively engaged in the conversation and nurse his only cocktail to keep his wits about. 

“Hey uh Rapo, Claire and I are thinking about doing a little cross-over. Ya know an It’s Alive meets Gourmet Makes meets worms! Gummy worms!” Brad was three beers in and really enjoying watching Claire cringe at every new idea proposed for a Gourmet Makes episode.

“Is that even a challenge though Brad? It’s just pectin set in a mold? I really think Pop Rocks would be the ideal challenge. This would of course be a Claire only project though.” The dedication Chris put forth in critiques of food ideas could probably be better used critiquing his own personality. Adam let this harsh thought roll off and away, trying instead to conjure a quick rebuttal in support of the gummy worm idea before _other _people could be involved in the conversation.__

____

Too late.

“Hey Delany, pretty quiet over there! Do you have any ideas for Claire?” Brad’s question cut down Adam’s hope. Adam shot a quick look at the man opposite him. 

Delany, lifted his eyes from their current smolder around Rapaport’s chest to meet his glance, the whole time barely acknowledging Brad and the others. He blinked several times before swiping his finger through the whip cream piled on the Fiona-imitation chocolate chess pie. 

“I don’t know, why don’t we do something with cream.” Delany stared at Adam, bringing his finger to his mouth to suck off the whip. A little cream remained on his upper lip as Alex pulls his finger out of his mouth with a pop. Adam met his stare, cheeks very red and mouth agog for just a moment before his expression shifts to determination.

“Delany, didn’t you say there was footage to go over from today’s Grand Tasting?”

Alex smirked, thinking about how little work it took to get Adam to this point. Rapaport wanted him. 

“Yes. I mean, yeah that’s right, let’s head out then and get started. I think your room is closer.” Delany scooted back from the table, not breaking eye contact. Adam’s face must have displayed some shock at Delany’s blatant suggestion in front of the rest of the Test Kitchen crew, but the need to know what Alex’s actions meant left Rapaport ignoring the gossip mill he was starting. Adam unloaded several twenties to the table and followed Delany out of the bar.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
37 seconds later, after Delany and Rapaport’s quick exit.

“Didja get any of that Vincenzo?!?” Brad’s eyes are still round as his brain tried to grapple with Delany, the infamous playboy, taking home their boss, the infamous straight-lace. 

“I really need maybe another two drinks to process this.” Claire was still cringing but no longer because the demand for Pop Rocks took up most of the comments on her videos. 

“I’m just not sure exactly what is going on.” Chris craned his neck unsubtly.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Minutes later, in the elevator to Rapaport’s hotel suite.

The elevator ascended slowly, a bell ringing at each floor between ground and 15th. They stood far apart, unsure how to make the next move. 

“Rapo? Adam?” Delany’s voice is barely above a whisper but held weight. Adam looked up at his first name, meeting the darkened eyes that had been beckoning him all day. 

“Is this actually about footage?” Delany stepped closer, reaching out in mimic of their earlier conversation. His hand doesn’t stop at the bowtie, instead gently brushing along Adam’s jawline and into a caress around the back of the neck. 

“No, it’s not,” Adam whispers, moving his fingers to undo a button on Alex’s shirt.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Later that night. Rapaport’s hotel suite.

His hands and knees were thankful for his camelhair robe buffering them against the rough carpet of the hotel suite. The man working behind him was a wave of heat across his back with each thrust. A warm hand slid up his thigh. He hoped it was on its way to relieve the growing tension in his groin. Groaning when his partners fingers enclosed around his hard dick, he pushed back against the next thrust in appreciation for the touch. 

A sharp knock brought Adam Rapaport away from the caress of his dream lover and back into consciousness. Blinking away the dream, he assessed the situation. Alone and naked, ensconced only by the warm heady scent of hot coffee. He never slept naked (only the finest Moroccan camelhair robe); something was off. Scanning his body, another sharp knock and muffled introduction (Room Service!) tore his attention away from a bruise on his thigh that looked suspiciously like a bite. His 9 am coffee order provided a small regularity on this odd start to the day. 

Scrounging around the base of the bed located his discarded camelhair robe. It also came with a pair of boxers that he was sure didn’t belong to him. He tossed them away and his eyes landed on the bedside table. A single mug of coffee sat steaming next to a carafe of milk. He couldn’t resist dipping a finger into the creamy white. It was hot whole milk, his preferred coffee go-with. Next to the mug lay a card with a single line of tight cursive. 

“I hope you were impressed ~Delaney.” 

“Delaney?!” He shot upright, sputtering. Bedside coffee and the knocking at the door from his scheduled cup forgotten. Memories come flooding back. That bruise was definitely a bite mark. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday, 4pm. Rapaport’s hotel suite.

He’s come to his senses, sleep and sex long locked away. He’s the editor of Bon Appetite and he needs to do his job. Right now, his job means recapping the Uncork’d weekend for an email blast to the subscribers. He just wishes the newsletter could be slightly less about man who had left with only a note and an Instagram post.


End file.
